Kione

Chapter One

It was a cold, gray, wet day with a slight wind that sought out any openings in clothing to torture the skin beneath with its icy fingers. The child, clad in big black boots that reached nearly to her knees, a thin shirt and pants that clung to her by the belt pulled tight around her waist, and an old brown and blue raincoat, didn't seem to mind the cold, splashing in the mud-puddles that adornes the broken street pavements. Her face was lighted with a rare toothy smile at the simple, rare, and forbidden pleasure.

“Nevrarré!” The angry, harsh bellow echoed off the brick houses lining the street.

The child looked up, her large, liquid brown eyes wideining even further than normal, a guilty fear on her features beneath the uneven layer of dirt and grime staining her cheeks. The sky began to drizzle again, streaming down her straight mahogany brown locks, already stringy and unkempt. Her mouth opened in a round “O”, but no sound was uttered as the woman who had called her name marched toward her.

“Nevrarré! Look at you! If you want to look the part of an orphan, so be it- your father can have your dinner! Get inside and stop dawdling, getting your perfectly good clothes all ruined!” The woman scolded the child, roughly shoving her toward the house she had so recently exited.

The child tripped from the force of the shove and fell full-length into a rather large puddle, splashing water all over, including on the woman's dress. She screamed with rage at the child slowly picking herself up out of the puddle, and smacked the side of the little girl's head with the flat of her hand. The child fell again, onto the ungiving pavement of the street, but did not cry out, simply picking herself back up to stand on her feet.

Her rage unabated, Nevrarré's mother pointed at their house. “Inside!” she yelled, shoving her daughter toward the house again.

The child obeyed, without tripping this time, and hurried indoors, scurrying to avoid having her heels trod on by her already wrathful mother. In the receiving room, she quick-stepped to the side, too tired to hurry before her mother any longer.

“You're filthy- change and clean up,” her mother ordered, barely glancing at her on her way into the kitchen.

Escaping the clatter of pots and pans and her mother's yelling at the housemaid, the child ran up the narrow, creaking staircase to her closet-sized bedroom. She tugged off the sodden boots, dropped the coat on the floor, and went to draw water into her tub. Her eyes followed the stream-like flow of the water from its stone spout into the dented metal basin- water she summoned with the press of her finger on the pad on the wall. She pressed a nearly identical button to the one before, and the stream of water stopped.

The child wriggled out of her dirty clothes to wash in the lukewarm water from the metal basin, dry herself off with a ragged but soft towel, and wriggle back into clean clothes. Barefoot, she left the room, hearing the basin drain of its own accord behind her. The main door slammed downstairs, and Nevrarré ducked into the room down the hall quick as a wink. Her father was home.

Proving her right, her father's booming voice carried from downstairs, followed by the sharp tones of her mother's voice. Nevrarré covered her ears in the dark room she crouched in behind the closed door.

“Lights, dim,” she whispered, and a glow rose around her, brightening till she could just see. A whimper sounded from the corner, discontent.

It was her brother, lying on his rough sheets, his brown hair the same shade as hers lying soft against his smooth forehead. Nevrarré dared not move- she didn't want her hiding place found out by her parents, and she feared making her brother cry out more. She would have to go down to dinner with her parents, but later rather than sooner is what she wished.

“Shh,” she whispered, trying to soothe her brother. “Narir, shh. Don't give me away,” she pleaded.

Growing more discontented, her brother took a deep breath and let out a fearsome wail. Nevrarré trembled in the corner, frozen breathless there. She had to leave. The girl bolted from the room and was neatly laid flat on the ground by a heavy box to her ear.

“Just what do you think you're doing?” demanded the voice of her father. Nevrarré didn't answer, struggling to regain her bearings amidst the ringing in her ears.

“Nevar- that child has been exceedingly naughty today! I caught her jumping in puddles- puddles, of all things, and then the brat splashed the mud all over me- insolent pest that she is,” her mother told her father as she came up the stairs.

“I just caught her coming out of Narir's room,” her father returned, still looking down at her. His booted foot came up and kicked her, prodding her to answer. “What do you think you are up to? I refuse to have an insolent brat in my house! Answer when I speak to you, child!”

Nevrarré struggled to hold back the tears as she fought her way to her feet. Her chest and ribs hurt, as did her head, and she was dizzy. Biting her lip, she stood before her parents, careful not to look into their eyes, careful not to cry, and uncertain what to say. “I..” she began, but was interrupted by her mother.

“Don't talk back to your betters, child!” her mother snapped, and Nevrarré's cheek suddenly stung with the force of her mother's hand impacting it again.

“Narari, I told her to speak,” her father, Nevar, told her mother gruffly, catching her hand in his vice-like grip.

“Then speak!” she yelled at Nevrarré.

Nevrarré took a deep, trembling breath, closing her eyes for a second. She mustn't cry. If she cried, it would only be worse for her. Now, as it was, she would probably be beaten, and have no supper, and then go to bed. She spoke quickly, “I was checking on hi-”

She broke off when her father hit her, and her hands went to her cheek. “I will not tolerate a liar, as well!” her father was scolding her. Her mother told her what she thought by a rap on the top of her head, and Nevrarré cringed away. Here it was, just a few minutes of beating. Only a few. As long as she didn't cry, didn't speak, didn't look at her parents.

Her parents, thoroughly disgusted with Nevrarré, punished her and then drug her downstairs, sitting her roughly at the table. The dining room was glorious, and Nevrarré always enjoyed it. The table was big and glossy, real wood, and the chandelier above was exquisite in its crystalline, delicate beauty. The housemaid was sent up to get Narir, and her parents began to share the food that had been placed on the table. The smell of roasted meat, freshly baked bread, and seasoned vegetables just picked filled Nevrarré's nose and made her stomach growl audibly- which caused her parents to give her a warning glance.

After being made to watch her parents and younger brother eat, sitting absolutely still for half an hour for fear of more punishment from her parents, Nevrarré was allowed to leave the table. Or rather, her mother glanced over at her as she might look at a rat scurrying across the floor and said, “Get out of my sight.”

This order Nevrarré was glad to obey, standing stiffly and bowing to her parents before exiting the room and running up the stairs. She made it to her room without further incident, and laid herself on her bed. The girl lay there among her old and ragged blankets, staring at the ceiling with dry eyes, ignoring the sharp pain from her ribs that happened whenever she breathed.

“It's okay,” she whispered brokenly to the ceiling between spasms of pain. “When I grow up, when I turn twelve, my parents will be proud of me. I'll make them proud of me when I grow up and become a person. Because I will be good. And they will be proud.”

Chapter Two

Nevrarré awoke on her hard narrow bed to the sound of beeping. It was her bed, waking her up. “Nevrarré Nevaraen, the time is 0730. School begins in one hour. Your body is at 98%. The temperature outside is eleventy degres, with a slight wind. Foggy. Please exit the bed at this time.”

The child obeyed her bed and found it to be truthful. Between the rudimentary nanobots in her bloodstream and the healing component to her bed, she was nearly completely healed, and the only remnant of the pain of yesterday was a stiffness in her sides. She looked at her round face in her cracked mirror- the large, deep brown eyes, a slight discoloration on her left cheek from her father's fist the night before, and the fine wisps of her brown hair across her forehead. Altogether, it was a very normal face- an average Onyx Galoedin child's face.

It would be cold outside, Nevrarré remembered as she turned from the mirror to change into clean clothes and then pull on her jacket and boots. Silently, she tiptoed down the hall to the stairs.

“This is where you keep the children?”

The voice came from downstairs- a stranger's voice. Nevrarré halted, pressing her thin form against the wall, hoping to meld with the shadows there.

“Yes, except for meals and schooling,” her father's voice was saying. They were near the foot of the stairs now, just out of sight. Nevrarré held her breath.

“You are generous,” the unknown voice said disprovingly.

Neither of Nevrarré's parents responded to that. It was a barbed question, and they knew it. Even Nevrarré, listening in, knew that. The stranger continued. “Both go to school?”

“Yes,” Nevrarré's mother, Nerari, replied. “And good riddance to them there, too. The girl goes to primary, and the boy to intermediary.”

“Ages?” demanded the stranger.

“The girl is five. The boy is nearly four,” Nerari answered.

“Health?” the stranger continued. Nevrarré could imagine him checking things off a list.

“Both good,” Nevar answered shortly.

“Any questions?” the stranger asked, his tone clearly bored.

“When is the lab taking more subjects?” Nevar asked.

There was a sinister smile in the stranger's voice as he replied, “Soon.”

They were leaving. Nevrarré waited until she head the door shut, and then she made her way down the stairs. She passed under the gazes of her parents, doing her best to act normal. Without looking at them, she went quickly to the door to avoid giving her parents anything to punish her for. Her pace was even and controlled as she left the house and went down to the street, where she broke into a run. She heard her father yelling at her, but she didn't listen to him- she just ran.

The child slowed to a walk when she neared the tram stop that was a few blocks from her house. She had nowhere to go. Nowhere but on the tram, and off to school. Maybe, if she was especially good, her parents would keep her. But she couldn't tell anyone. She had to keep the secret, or she really would go away. The stranger must have been one of those men that came by twice a year to check on all the children. They came to the schools to, testing and testing them. Nevrarré had never liked them- they had given her no reason to like them. They were doing a job, and she was simply a part of that job.

Of course, that was how most of the Onyx Galoedin viewed their children, Nevrarré knew. That was why every Onyx child dreamed of the magical day when they would turn twelve, and everything would change. They would have a magnificent party, with all sorts of good things to eat, their parents would talk to them more kindly, and not look over their heads so much. And if they were very, very lucky, their parents may just give them a hug or something.

But before you were twelve, you were simply a child. Children were things to be tolerated, to feed, to clothe, and to punish and send off to school so that they would later become people. Nevrarré had never been hugged- she could ever remember even being touched by her parents at all except to be punished. And she did remember that the housemaid was the only one who touched her brother. Nevrarré could tell by her face that she didn't like it, like her brother was dirty in some way. Nevrarré didn't know- she had never touched her brother, either. She lived in a bubble of isolation- no one touched her, and she touched no one.

The tram hummed to a stop in front of her, disturbing her thoughts.She stepped on board the car, pressing her destination on the holographic panel that appeared before her and letting the bot prick her for identification. “Nevrarré Nevaraen recognized. Child's destination: Talpi Primary Education Facility,” the bot spoke in a monotone voice as it scanned the microscopic nanobots that leaked out with her blood.. It then proceeded up the car, speaking in its programmed amaible, cheerful tones to the grown-ups on the tram and ignoring the children present.

Nevrarré sat down on the edge of a narrow metal bench as the tram left the station to speed along its course. Talpi Primary Education Facility was a half hour drive, and Nevrarré had taken the tram alone to get there since the first day. Children came from all around to go to Talpi, and it was a massive facility. Nevrarré's class was a fairly typical size, with 25 children including her, ranging in ages from 5 to 8 years old. Rumor had it that there were over a hundred classes just for children under 8. Hundreds more must be for the older children who were ages 8 to 12- children about to become people. Classes were formed acording to the child's district, though, so many of the children riding the tram with her were in her class or nearby classes. Children from farther away Nevrarré never saw- no one from her class ever did. They might as well have been form another galaxy for all they knew or cared.

The tram ride was uneventful- it always was. The tram halted in front of the massive gray stone building that matched the clouds that always overhung Nevrarré's city. “All children must get off at this time,” the bot announced, and all the children obeyed, moving to the door of the tram under the demeaning gaze of the grown-ups. Only children were beneath bots, and bots were already low on the chain of command. But every child knew that one day, they would grow-up and never have to take an order from a bot ever again. It made it easier to bear it.

Nevrarré trudged along with the crowd of other children swarming toward the school. Jostled by the other children, some running and yelling their freedom to the unhearing sky- which was just as well- and other like Nevrarré, staying silent and inhibited, just as if at home. She climbed the stone steps, holding onto the cold banister on the side to help her up the mammoth steps. In through the imposing black doors which creaked open on their own in response to the flood of oncoming children, and then left, on the polished wood floor down the long hallway. Five minutes later, the crowd had thinned considerably- some children had gone right, or turned down the various hallways to get to their classrooms. Most of the children trudging along with her were in her class, and most of them had her demeanor- solitary inhibition and joyless acceptance of the future.

Walking into her classroom, she shed her coat and walked forward, to the bot standing motionless in front of the classroom, boots squelching soddenly. She waited in line with those of her classmates that had arrived with her to press her small hand against the bot's chest and wait for recognition. “Nevrarré Nevaraen. Age 5. Child from Nevar and Nerari of Treyshan district.Your hands are dirty, child- wash them immediately,” the bot's monotone voice came.

Nevrarré turned and obeyed, washing up at the sink in the corner. Someone bumped into her softly, and her soft brown eyes met sharp green ones held in a lightly freckled face that was framed by straight ebony locks of hair. The girl smiled at her in a manner fit for conspirators, and Nevrarré answered with a shy smile of her own.

“Well met,” the girl spoke softly, casually, as if speaking to no one.

Nevrarré smiled again, that soft, shy smile of hers while she dried her hands, making sure her back was to the bot so it wouldn't see the smile that softened her face. “Well met, Jerana,” she whispered in return.

Nevrarré looked up to Jerana and admired her with her whole heart. Jerana was seven and would soon turn eight. She was tall and slender, with shoulder length black hair that was currently pulled back from her face by a patched blue headband. A very slight spattering of freckles adorned her cheeks just below her eyes which were often green fire. She was perhaps the smartest child in Nevrarré's class, and she hated most of the people in class. For some reason, she had taken a liking to Nevrarré, and Nevrarré was sad that Jerana would not be in her class next year- she would be in the upper level class with the older children, something that Nevrarré could only dream of at the moment.

“Yeah? Well I got only 17 lashings yesternight!” The boy's voice broke through Nevrarré's thoughts- it was Coli, a rugged boy with blond hair that always stuck stubbornly in every direction imaginable all at once. The comment had been directed at Wether, a heavy-set 7 year old who was always boasting about how well he was treated.

“That matters nothing- I still beat you all this week,” Wether was telling Coli, condescension dripping from his voice.

“Shut your traps- no one cares nothing about you two and your stupid games!” Jerana snapped, all a-fire now, and stalking toward them. The room fell silent, as it always did when Jerana was chewing out one child or another.

“Told you-” Coli was sneering giddily to Wether when Jerana's foot connected with his shin.

His cry of pain made Wether giggle, but he stopped as soon as Jerana glanced at him. She pushed Coli out of the way, and Wether had no mercy, either, as her fist connected with his cheekbone and a bruise began to bloom there right away. The girl looked around at the other children, just daring them to do anything. No one dared to breathe- except Nevrarré, who was looking on wistfully, wishing she had the same power over people that Jerana exhibited day-by-day.

The bot gave the 'ahem' that people do when clearing their voices, and everyone winced at the harsh sound that electronics were never meant to synthesize- especially low-end electronics. “Seats,” was all the bot said.

Obediantly, the children pulled out the benches from the edges of the room and sat down. They had no seating arrangement, but no one dared make trouble anyway- just as no one was late or absent from school. That information, as all Onyx Galoedin children were taught from age 3, was sent directly to the parents of the child in question and to the local government. Bad children were sent to the government, and rarely did anyone ever see them again.

The bot began their lessons. Before lunch, they were taught about their nanobots- their origins, uses, specialties, and the responsibilities of those carrying them. Then the lessons changed to the Onyx Clan of Galoedin- their place in Galoedin society, their close ties with the Spinel Clan of Galoedin, and the snobbish other ten clans that made up the Galoedin race. Lunch was a break, but not a relaxing one, for the bot never intervened. If a child was careless or unwary, their rations could be stolen. Bigger children would sometimes beat up the littler children and steal their food, and it was all fair game. That was one of the reasons Nevrarré was glad that Jerana had befriended her- no one dared take her on, and no one dared touch Nevrarré, even when Jerana was clear across the room beating up a pair of quarelling children. No one else was Jerana's friend, and Nevrarré could never figure out why she of all people was close to Jerana, but she didn't dare question it, for fear that friendship would go away.

After lunch was mathematics- algebra and geometry for the older students, and complex division and multiplication for those around Nevrarré's age- and science, where they learned of animals and physics, saw pictures of vast, unproductive lands with green grass and a distant blue sky, and oversized trees. It was well that is was an alien world- most of the children thought the pictures ugly and so alien from the gray and brown stone they knew so well, with the comforting closeness of the gray cloudy sky. They learned as well a little about the weak, stupid humans that the Galoedin were so closely related to, how one scientist had developed the nanobots they were so proud of and so, eventually, the Galoedin had formed- a race of superior humans all gifted with nanobots.

School ended, just as it eventually did every day, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It never did. The bot always spoke in that monotone voice, it always asked easy questions, and no answer was ever good enough. Several children gained bruises, some had to limp out, and many was dirty from the fights and scuffles of the day- all of which were recorded. As always, Nevrarré trudged her way to the tram, rode it to Treyshan station, and trudged her way home.

Upon opening the door to her house, however, Nevrarré suddenly stood stock still. Everything was wrong, and nothing was the same. In the receiving room, her parents were sitting with two strange men in black coats, all of them sipping drinks and chatting charmingly. Her parents looked over at her, and her mother smiled.

“There she is,” her father announced in a warm tone that was never directed at her. But today it was, and Nevrarré was shocked to silence. She stood stone still, mouth hanging open in her astonishment.

“ Nevrarré, child, take off your boots and coat and sit down,” Nerari invited, still smiling, and patting the chair next to her.

Though every fiber in her body knew this was all wrong and screamed danger, Nevrarré dared not disobey. She did as she was told and come to mutely sit on the very edge of the chair, every muscle in her body tense and on high alert.

“Nevrarré Nevaraen?” asked one of the men. Nevrarré nodded mutely.

“That's a catchy name,” the other congratulated her parents, who nodded with modest acceptance.

“We've come to take you to a new home,” the first man said.

Nevrarré couldn't help herself- her fear spawned words which poured desperately from her lips. “But I was good today- I didn't get in trouble once, not once! And I answered every question right, and I did my lessons, and I didn't bother you once, not once today, and.-”

Her father cut her off. “Cease your babbling, child, and still your lying tongue or I shall have it forked to match your serpent's style!” his voice boomed.

Nevrarré quailed, and her mouth shut. Nerari continued where the strange man had left off. “You do nearly passable in school, child, and that is why these men are going to run some tests on you, to see if you will indeed grow up to become a truly intelligent being oneday,' she explained.

Nevrarré wanted to believe. From the stories she had heard- and those stories abounded- if you were taken off to one of those labs where you disappeared, they just took you and never told you or asked you. You were just suddenly gone and someplace else. So if her parents were trying to explain......... Nevrarré wanted desperately to believe them. She must appear worthy. So she calmed her fear as much as possible and straightened her back and tried to appear dignified and worthy.

“Nerari was kind enough to pack your things for you, Nevrarré. They are in the bag by the door. Do thank her on your way out,” Nevar reminded her, as the two strange men stood.

“Thank you,” Nevrarré said obediently to her mother, and added a thank-you to her father as well, eager to prove her initiative and therefore intelligence. She glided to pick up the bag, and then hesitated at the door.

Turning to look back at her parents, she asked, “When will I come back?”

But she could see that her parents had already put her out of their minds, for her mother was cleaning up, and her father replied without so much as a glance at her, “When you prove your worth.”

Chapter Three

Nevrarré walked with the strangers in their black coats down her street and back to the tram station she had so recently left, lugging the heavy bag her mother had packed for her as she went. They had to wait several minutes for the tram to come their way, and during that time, neither man spoke. Likewise, the girl stayed silent, not wishing to ruin her reputation so early. They went aboard the tram, and the bot spoke politely to the men, saying nothing at all to Nevrarré. She watched with wide brown eyes as the bot moved on. It must be that she was with the strangers- they must be so important that the bot knew it didn't need to pay her mind, being as she was with the strangers! She smiled, but was sure to quickly lose the smile before anyone could notice it and get her in trouble.

“Sad luck for a child built to want the praise of her elders to be born in such a world as this.”

Nevrarré turned her head sharply toward the source of the voice that had spoken so cryptically. It was an old man, leaning against one of the tram's poles. She looked away quickly when he grinned toothlessly at her, her heart pounding with fear. Surely she would get in trouble now, and they would toss her away! The strangers, she saw, glared at the old man.

One of them spoke, scorning the man with his words. “Silence, old one. We have no need of your pratter.”

Nevrarré turned to look back at him, a sad old man, as she was dragged along by the men in black coats to the back of the tram. She walked with them, but slowly, looking back at the old man who was smiling a sad, sad smile at her. It was as if he was as old as the universe, and knew all the hurts of the universe and was feeling them all at the same time, now.

One of the strangers tugged painfully on her arm, and she looked forward, following them meekly as she pondered the man's words. Was he insane? Perhaps his nanobots weren't working and he was scorched? She shuddered, causing the men who were with her to glare at her.

She gets to the lab and finds out that she's just an experiment, like all the others. Misery and heartbreak follow, but no time to mourn or feel sorry for herself. Test after test after test, and one day they all get excited over something. She's moved to isolation, near the testing room, and the tests come faster and faster and faster. She's being trained to pilot something, trained hard and fast. Then she gets a week of rest and sleep, and the day comes.

It was morning, because the bot came in and woke her and told her so. She hadn't seen the lightening of the clouds that had told her it was morning all the former days of her life for two months now. She dressed and followed the bot to the Control Room, where all the scientists were waiting for her. It was the big day. Her large brown eyes traveled apprehensively to the round pod sitting so harmlessly about 50 feet away. In half an hour, she would be in there, rocketing through space.

“Nevrarré Nevaraen- do you know what is expected of you?” asked the lead scientist, Treys.

“What do you do first, child?” another scientist quickly inquired.

“I push the red button, turn the black knob 45 degrees, push the lever up halfway and no more, then press the blue, green, and yellow buttons all at the same time exactly five seconds after pushing the lever. After that, I make sure no lights turn green,” she answered diligently. The scientists nodded gruff, satisfied nods at her answer, but it was clear to her that they expected failure. What failure might bring, she didn't know.

“Get into the pod and strap yourself in, child,” Trey ordered.

Nevrarré obeyed in her silent, tiptoe-ing manner. As she climbed into the pod, she heard one scientists whispering to one another:

“There goes another.”

“Maybe she can get farther than the boy did. She did do well in the tests.”

“Or maybe it'll be a bigger explosion!”

“Either way, leastways there'll be no burial plot for the child. Less money wasted.”

Nevrarré shivered as she strapped herself in, suddenly frightened. She could die, the reality struck her. Tears sprang to her eyes. She could die, and no one would care. She didn't want to die, but no one cared about that. They all expected her to die. She should have known. Should have realized. She had never been treated badly here, but it had been no better than when she lived with her parents. It was the lot of children to die and no one to care. But still, she wanted to live!

It was too late now. She was on the doomed craft. The hatch was locked, and she was strapped in. Nevrarré dashed the tears from her eyes and sniffed, willing herself to be calm and under control There- the windows were being uncovered. She mustn't let it be seen that she was afraid. Perhaps then at least she would gain respect. She must look brave.

The coutdown had started. Nevrarré checked over the equipment, making sure everything was as it should be, just as she had been taught. She would make the best run of it she could. Ten seconds. Five. In just a moment now... Now! Just as she had been trained, Nevrarré pushed the red button, her hand quickly moving to twist the black knob above in 45 degrees as the antique clocks run, and then her hand flew to the lever by her side, pushing it forward till it hit the halfway point and caught a little. She took the chance to breathe as she counted to five and then hit the 3 buttons above her head- blue, green, and yellow- simultaneously. It was the smoothest, the best run she had had yet, and had occupied her so thoroughly that she only now realized that she was in space. Space!

Heart pounding against her ribs, she checked all the lights. All were green, and the computer had no complaints. Nevrarré dared breathe a sigh of relief. They had said this would be hard! But now she was in space, and the pod was traveling on autopilot. In seven hours, she would be at the second phase of her mission. Her heart lifted- perhaps she would make it back alive. She would do better than they all expected, and they would be proud of her and she would be a hero and be like the twelve-year olds, even though she was only five. A smile graced her face as she closed her eyes to nap, still securely strapped in her chair.

The computer woke her, speaking calmly in a male voice. It was a high end AI, and so, its voice was hardly different from a real man's voice. “We are approaching drop point. Prepare the bomb to be dropped. We will reach the drop point in thirty minutes.”

Nevrarré rubbed her eyes, stretched, and yawned. She then unbuckled herself and stepped out of the chair, stiff joints creaking in protest. Approximately seventy percent of the pod was taken up by the bomb. There was only just enough room left in the pod for the engines and her piloting station, so the child had to walk a mere two steps to reach the controls on the deployment mechanism. She set the timer for ten minutes, then sat back down in her chair and strapped herself back in, double checking the buckles to be sure she was secure. Her anxiety had returned, and her stomach was doing flip-flops. But just as if someone else had been present, Nevrarré said nothing. She had twenty minutes left to think. And her mind was thinking no concious thoughts.

The pod dropped suddenly out of infraspace, or “speed space” as the children at school had nicknamed it. She paused, thinking of them. Had she not been taken here, she would be there right now. She would maybe be talking to Jerana, or watching some of the boys fight and boast about who got less lashings that who else. Would she ever see Jerana again? Did she miss her? Did she wonder what happened? Or did anyone even care? Nevrarré shook her head. She wouldn't think about it. If she did, she would cry. And if she cried, she might make a mistake. And then she could never come back. Jaw set firmly, she checked the controls andran through what she was supposed to do in her head.

“Where am I?” she asked the computer.

“The child is in the Badlands, approximately 7 lightyears from her home planet Senak,” the computer responded.

7 lightyears was a long way to be from.... everywhere Nevrarré had ever been. She might as well be on Earth, the fabled planet of the humans. But out of the window, she saw no planet. Just asteroids floating slowly by, scraps on torn metal, and...

Nevrarré screamed, covering her face in horror. She couldn't believe what she had just seen- it couldn't be. Cautiously, as if confronting a nightmare, she opened her eyes to peer through her fingers. It was still there. The tattered, bloody upper half of a boy's face. He must have been about her age. Nevrarré's heart sank when she realized he must have been on the same mission as she. Perhaps he had been the one the scientists had been talking about when she had left. She leaned over while her stomach rejected food that it didn't have, shuddering and sweating. She felt sicker than she had ever felt in her life.

“Drop point reached in five minutes,” the computer warned ruthlessly.

Nevrarré shook her head. She couldn't do it. Somehow, what she was doing made that boy's head explode to cause his face to go drifting aimlessly with frozen blood droplets to hit any ships that passed by. Her stomach again rejected its imaginary food, and she thought that if this went on any more, she might soon be violently retching out her own guts. She was terrified, and desperately she looked out the window, hoping for anything that might save her. She didn't want her head to explode. She wanted to live, to survive, whole and intact with her whole face on her head.

“One minute to drop point,” the computer again intoned.

“Noo,” she sobbed, tears mingling with the fear-sweat that coated her face. Sobs choked out of her, as her mind desperately searched for ways to gain more time. More time. Like forever. She wanted to live! She didn't want to die! Nevrarré held her stomach as she sobbed the universe's unfairness all alone in the cockpit of a round metal pod in a backwater corner of the galaxy.

“Control yourself, child. Thirty seconds,” the computer spoke.

It was right. She had to control herself if she was going to have any chance of pulling through this and coming back. She would do better than that boy. She would make no mistakes. And she would return to her planet and her parents in victory to make them all surprised and proud and delighted. She would surpass all of their expectations- every one.

Her hands dashed the tears from her eyes and wiped her nose, doing her best to push back the fear that still gripped at her heart with its icy claws and clung to her so that she could barely breathe. It was nearly over. She closed her eyes and took a deap breath. Now. Nevrarré punched the button that would release the bomb and turned the ship around to get as far away as possible. She didn't have to be too far away, she knew, because the bomb wasn't directed at her, but at space-time itself.

Still, the child feared she was too close when the bomb went off. Watching it with tear droplets still clinging to the ends of her long lashes, she couldn't help but marvel at its beauty. It was almost like it was set to music. The bomb hung in space, abandoned by the pod which bore it there, completely out of place. And then, light blossomed from it, musical in its silence, spreading out to lighten all the surrounding asteroids and scrap metal.

But then the ride got rough, just as the light reached her. The lights began to blink red for the first time, and an alarm sounded. Nevrarré screamed as she felt the pod being ripped apart around her, using the last of her air to cry for help to no one, for no one was around to hear. And then, her world collapsed, and the little girl's universe folded in on itself to sweet blackness.

Chapter Five

The child opened her eyes. Something was prickling her skin- she looked and saw that it was grass. Cool, green, growing grass that strethced on and on- more grass than she had ever seen in her short life. She sat up slowly, looking around at the alien landscape. Where was she? The sky, a strange blue color rather than its proper cloudy gray-yellow, seemed to have banished all but a few small renegade clouds away near the horizon. The child did not like it- she felt too exposed under the unnaturally cloudless sky. Anyone up there might see her!

Standing, the child turned around. All there was was the grass and the sky, with a spatttering of tall, tall trees- trees too big to fit inside a building, so of course ther were outside, strange as that was- and over there, a building. The little girl did not want to go there. She didn't know why, but she knew it was bad. It was better, safer, to be alone. Why?

The question rang unaswered in the child's mind until she forgot it. Having nowhere to go, she began walking toward the trees. She walked for some time, and was near the trees when the howling broke out. The child stopped, and slowly a name came to fit the animal running toward her, howling so. Dog. She had read about them.Where? What? Having no answers, the child shook the questions away. The dog was running toward the child, and they did not look or sound friendly. When she could clearly see his gleaming yellow fangs, she found her legs and knew she must get away.

She ran. Driven toward the building by the dog, she ran as fast as she possibly could go. As she neared the building, hotly pursued by the very large canine, she felt his hot breath on her heels, his teeth nipping at her, trying to bite her. Reminiscent of something....... The child had no time to think- she had to keep moving.

The dog found a purchase on her foot, and she tripped, causing the dog to let go his hold on her as he leaped over her, turning quickly to come back at his prey as the terrified child scrambled away on shaky limbs. The building was near- she could touch it. The dog was snarling in her ears. Her rough clothing scraped her skin.

Backed into the side of the building, the child stopped suddenly. Stop struggling. It would be better to give in. Then it will all be over- till next time. The child shook away the fragments of memory and that which she had learned over her life, and covered her face with the coarse fabric of her oversized shirt. Coming closer-the dog was coming closer, and closer.... now.

A breath of wind, followed by a short yelp. Something heavy fell on her- the child didn't want to know what it was. She didn;t move, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. Was she dead now? She should be. Why? More unanswered questions. The child didn't think about them- didn't want to wonder why she couldn't answer such questions.

The heavy weight on her lifted, and the air was cool on her. Strong hands laid gently on her to lift her up- she cringed involuntarily, and they stopped, causing her much surprise. If you cringe, if you cry, the ........ come harder. What? Slowly, trembling, she looked up, an unknown fear like a vice around her heart- fear of the face that might be looking down at her. It was not that face- What face? She didn't know- but the face was that of the middle-aged, kindly looking man. She dared to fully uncover her face.

The man smiled down at her, and the child tried to make herself as small as possible. He frowned, and she froze. She had done something abd. It must be. His hand reached out for her, and she winced involuntarily, trying to shrink back farther. Inwardly, she scolded hjerself, but stopped, marvelling at how he froze when she winced. It was very strange. Grown-ups never freeze. Don't they? This was all so very strange, and it truly frightened her.

“Come, come little one. Let's get you inside someplace warm,” he spoke, his tone warm and inviting.

The child didn't know what to do. Hesitating, slowly, she obeyed, but she didn't dare take the hand he offered her. She stood up shakily and he followed suit, looking down at her as if afraid to break her, his expression curious. The child fidgeted, wrapping her arms around herself, hugging herself to combat the fear. Carefully, the man led the way inside and the child tiptoed after him.

Inside, the building was warm, lighted up with extremely old fashioned lanterns and a real fire contained in the bricks by the wall. It was a fire- a real fire, and the child stared at it in awe. Wooden chair clustered around wooden tables all around the room and along the countertop she stood by. Quite a few chairs were occupied- grownups chatting away to each other. It was amazing, and the child felt completely out of place. The atmosphere was one she'd never felt before and she struggled to name it. Calm. Comfortable. People at ease with each other.

Ill at ease herself, the child followed the man as her went to the counter and called for someone- the child was too busy looking around at her fascinating yet unsettling surroundings to catch the name. As it turned out, she didn't need to.

“Fredericka!” the man hollered again.

“Shuddap- I heard ya the first time, so quit yer squawking already.” The voice belonged to the biggest woman the child had ever seen- was it really?- a big woman with a mass of wavy black hair tied back in a large purple bow and bangs that fell so low they nearly covered her grey eyes. Her face bore a cross look, but brightened with a pleasant confusion when she spotted the child standing shy and silent by the man, nearby but aloof at the same time.

“Karlos! What do we have here? Was this was that noise was about outside?” she asked incredulously as the child tried to shrink to nothingness.

“Aye, that's the truth of it. There was a wolf out there intending on this little girl as dinner,” Karlos explained. The child looked up at Karlos, wide-eyed at the truth. So it hadn't been a dog, but the dog's meaner bigger relative. A wolf. She shuddered.

Fredericka's eye caught that shudder, and she went into a tongue-lashing. “For shame, Karlos! Indeed! You needn't remind the poor thing about that nightmare,” she scolded him.

Then she turned to the child, kneeling down to look her in the eye and taking her uncertain hands in her own large ones, speaking to her comfortingly. “Now sweetie, you're safe here, you see? Karlos here will take care of any of them mean nasty wolves, and I'm a fair hand with an axe myself. Poor wisp, you look half starved! What's your name, dear heart?”

The child stared back at Fredericka silently, painfully shy. But the woman glossed over it, calling over her shoulder for one of the cooks to get her some food. Then she turned back to the child, a smile on her face. “Here, dearie, we'll get you all settled comfortably by the fire now, and get something warm in you,” she said, leading the strange girl over to a table near the fireplace.

With an inhuman fearful cry that sounded like a cross between a grunt and a moan when one has a frog in one's throat, the child pulled back, eyes wide and showing the whites. The child pulled free of Fredericka's hold and fell back onto the hard wooden floor, scrambling backward until she hit a foot.

“Softly there, little one.” It was Karlos she had run into, and he picked her up into his big arms.

“Easy now, sweat pea. Nothing's gonna hurt you. Nothing, you here? You don't have to go by the fireplace if you don't want to. It's too warm and it stinks, anyway,” Fredericka was assuring her.

The little girl's cries subsided as she stilled again, and Fredericka shot Karlos a lot. Neither of them had any doubt- this child was not one from a normal household. Fredericka turned her attentions back to the child, smoothing her hair back from her forehead and murmuring to her in a soothing tone while the child sat stiffly upright not daring to look at anyone. Karlos took care of the customers, for Fredericka was busy with the strange child, calming her, getting her to eat, and finally, wrapping her snugly in a warm soft blanket when she finally fell asleep.

Fredericka cleared the half-eaten from dishes away from the sleeping child who she left leaning against the back of the most comfortable chair in the inn. Leaving the others of the inn's staff to care for the guests, Fredericka pulled Karlos into a conference with her near the kitchen, keeping an eye on the sleeping girl.

“Where did she come from- did you see, Karlos?” Fredericka wondered.

Karlos shook his head. “I looked out the window to see the wolf chasing this girl. He must have been starving to risk it. Anyway, when I got out there, she'd given up. I managed to shoot it before it hurt her, but it broke one of my arrows and it landed on her anyway. She didn't seem hurt, just scared.”

“Scared witless, I'd say. Two hours, and I haven't gotten a word out of her- not even a name!” Fredericka declared in wonder.

“Maybe she doesn't know her name,” Karlos suggested.

Fredericka scowled at him, backhanding his arm lightly, but still the man moved away from the sting. “What kind of a child doesn't know her own name?”

Karlos snorted. “What kind of a child is she?” he retorted.

The child was taken in by Fredericka and the man who had saved her
from the wolves, and she found her life there in the inn strange, but not entirely unpleasant at all. In fact, she rather liked it. She lived there at the inn, the Flowering Branch Inn, and helped out in the kitchens under Fredericka's supervision. The big woman herself was the head of the kitchens, and even the inn's owner was careful not to cause her wrath. Fredericka taught the child, made sure she got enough to eat, and made sure she was able to rest comfortabley at night- in short, she took the child under her wing. No one dared scold the child or disturb her rest or food except under Fredericka's precise orders. The child, meanwhile, tiptoed around the kitchen doing her chores, and in the long stretches of time when she had nothing to do, she watched those who came to the inn as her schooling.
Everyone there in the inn knew that she was a strange child. She never
played with the other children in the inn, but even more surprising and disturbing, she never spoke a word, not even in her sleep. Oh, she had nightmares, alright, and once or twice an inhuman cry would rip from vocal chords unused to being used, but other than that, she was a very silent child. She couldn't write, either, though she often seemed to understand what those around her were saying. There was no doubt that she wasn't daft, for she picked up new activities and chores easily, but it was unsettling to a few to work with such a silent child who was far quicker to cringe and scamper out of the way than to smile. Indeed, few saw even the ghostly traces of a smile more than a few times a week.
Fredericka tried her hardest to ease the other kitchen workers and serving girls' worries, but even she was a bit put off by the strange child. Nothing seemed to work, to help the broken being who watched everything with wide, sad brown eyes, always alone and apart. One thing she decided to do to ease the strangeness that shrouded the child was to give her a name.
"We cannot just keep calling the poor thing 'child'- its not decent,"
she declared.
"She has had such a hard life already," Clara, one of the cooks,
commented perceptively.
"Such a strange little thing- I wonder who her parents are?" one of
the serving maids asked.
Fredericka snorted derisively. "I should like to teach them a thing or
two myself. But that's aside of the point. We need to give the child a name. Maybe it would make her feel better."
"I should like to know her real name."
"Not likely she can tell us, though."
"Uncanny silence, that one gives."
"Girls, focus!" snapped Fredericka, and the chattering serving girls fell silent.
One of the eldest cooks raised his hand slowly, somehow dignified in
that simple gesture that he wanted to speak. "Kione," he spoke but the single word.
"What's that, Denys?" Fredeicka questioned, eyes hooded carefully.
"Kione," he repeated carefully, slowly explaining. "She came out of nowhere. No one knows her. No one can say how she got here. So we call her Kione."
Denys's wife, Olera, nodded with an understanding smile. "Never did I
meet a soul who more fit a name's meaning."
Fredericka looked round the room. "How about it, ladies? Men?"
The response was composed of many shrugs, a few nods, and some spoken affirmations. All in all, Fredericka was satisfied with the response, and besides, her task was done- they now had a name to call their ward. Kione.
"Little girl? Little girl! Are you out there?" Asta, one of the serving girls, called out. Fredericka shot her a questioning look, and the girl quailed.
"I only thought maybe she should know her name now......," she excused herself.
The little girl came as she was called, to enter the kitchen and find
Fredericka staring down Asta, who had called her in. She watched them impassively for the second before Fredericka saw her. The woman's face brightened as she knelt and beckoned the child over. Standing before Fredericka, she stared into the woman's eyes with her accustomed calm, listening to Fredericka explain.
"Hello, darling! We were here in the kitchen talking about how you should have a name we can call you by- that is, until we find out your real name." The child made no move, and none there could tell what the child was feeling, if indeed she was feeling anything at all. Fredericka continued. "Denys and Olera there have come up with a wonderful name for you- that we can call you. Kione. How do you like it, little love?"
The child stared at Fredericka for a moment longer before her impassive gaze slowly turned toward Denys and Olera, who smiled at her. She blinked, and her gaze slowly looked around the kitchen, and then back at Fredericka. "Do you like it, sweet-cakes?" the woman prodded.
The child took another moment of stillness, and then a shadow of a
smile crept onto her face and she slowly nodded. A long breath of relief was released in the kitchen by the staff while Fredericka beamed at the child and picked her up, setting her on the countertop. "And now, dove, we have another chore for you. Test this cake here, and see if its edible for the customers, why don't you?" she suggested brightly, handing the child a slice of cake on a plate and a fork. The shadow of the smile turned into the full-fledged thing, and soon was worn by a chocolate-smeared face with crumbs spotting her chin and lips.

One day, merely a fortnight after her naming, Kione was sitting on the bar counter watching the latest traveling band come in for a rest. There were a great deal of them, the child thought, and their clothing was stained and dusty, but some of them shone through as fine despite the traveling stains. The child kept clear of the strangers, as she always did, sitting on the counter and sipping the fresh orange juice Fredericka had managed to procure for her.

One of the travelers was watching her as they were made comfortable, and when he had set down his bags and his cloak, he made his way over to her. He was young, with a head of brown hair and laughing green eyes. Kione stared at her juice, shyly ignoring him as he approached and hoping he would go away.

He did not. “Hi there,” he said gently, giving her a smile. Kione turned her face away, wrapping her arms around herself.

“What's your name, little one?” he asked casually. The child gave no answer, turning to climb down from the counter. Disappointed, the young man watched her sit on the floor by the wall with her knees drawn up, arms tightly wound around her thin frame.

A young woman with eyes like the sky and brilliant red hair came over to speak to him, and they talked quietly to each other for a moment while Kione watched. She couldn't help it- these people fascinated her for some reason. She had never seen anyone with their particular draw and beauty. Some of the serving girls were pretty, and even Fredericka was pretty in her own brusque way, but not like these two strangers. Kione wanted to watch them, just not interact with them.

The young woman went away to talk with the others by the fireside, and the young man came back over to crouch before her. “Would you like to hear some stories, little one?” he tried again, some of the cheer going out of his voice. Kione stared at him mutely, to shy to even shake her head.

The young man sighed, and Kione grew afraid as she was wont to do when grownups sighed or frowned or the like. When they acted like children. Her brow furrowed in concern as fear constricted her throat, and she buried her face in her hands, trembling.

She heard a sniff, and the young man standing up. And then another sniff as her moved away. Kione listened warily as he spoke quietly, questioning one of the servant girls who glanced her way and then pointed to Fredericka. Kione squeezed her hands in terror and fled to the corner to hide. She'd done something bad, she was certain. She always did.

Fredericka's voice came to her in snippets. “...Kione.... came... from the forest..... real name...... think......voice.....scared away..... never speaks a......”

Kione covered her ears, curling into a tight ball, her palms pressing against her ears so tight with her anxiety that her skull hurt. She felt soft hands on her, gently unwinding her from the ball she'd made of herself, lifting her up as she tried to squirm away, her fright clear on her face. Don't take me away- where? But the hands and arms would not be fought off, and she was held securely until she was too tired to be so panicky. Gradually, she relaxed, and became aware of someone humming. She let go of her ears to cover her face, but the humming didn't stop. Someone was stroking her hair tenderly, but she was also being held, in big secure arms. If she didn't open her eyes, this dream would never end. And this dream was good.

“Well I'll be the queen herself!” the voice of Fredericka reached Kione's ears, and the large woman was obviously quite shocked. Slowly, Kione opened her eyes to look around apprehensively.

“You're a miracle worker, you are,” Fredericka was continuing, and Kione realized she was talking about her, but not to her. To the man who was holding her so gently. She dared a quick glimpse of his face- yes, it was the man who had tried to hold her.

“Shh, shhh, shhhh, dear heart. You're alright, you're good,” a sweet musical voice was whispering to her from somewhere behind her.

Twisting to look, she saw the red headed young lady. She'd been brushing her short hair. The woman recognized the apprehension and fear in Kione's eyes, and smoothed her bangs back from her forehead with a soothing hand, murmuring peace to her all the while. It must have been her who was humming.

“You're alright, little one,” the young man was telling her gently. He looked up at Fredericka with a grin. “Well, it took some doing, but my Rhiana here has the voice of an angel as well as an angel's heart and looks,” the young man said, causing the woman to blush.

Fredericka knelt by Kione, reaching out to take her hand but thinking better of disturbing her and simply looking at her with that frank gaze of her. “Precious, darling, don't worry. You're okay. It feels good not to be afraid, don't it? This here's Tam and his wife Rhiana. They're good folk, you know.”

Kione stared at Fredericka unblinkingly, trying to make sense of what was happening to her. “You've got no home, little love. No family, no kin. And this hovel sure ain't no place to be raising a child. Tam and Rhiana, they be willing to take you in and care for you good, like you was their very own, cause you see, they ain't got no kids of their own, and they've taken quite a liking to you, codling. Tam and Rhiana, they'll be taking you with them to have a real home and family- if'n, that is, you want to go,” she hastily added for at the moment of mentioning that Kione would leave, panic had come into the youngster's eyes and the stiff anxiety had returned to her weary body.

“You don't have to come with us if you don't want to, little one,” Tam repeated gently, and Rhiana chimed in.

“But if you did decide to come, we'd come back often to see your friends you've made here. It wouldn't be forever, you see? All you'd have to do is ask, and off we'd come, back for a visit. And if you stayed with us, you'd have your very own bed and room, and we'd take good care of you. You'd never have cause to worry, dear heart,” Rhiana's musical voice was saying.

Bewildered, Kione looked all around. The very thought of leaving turned her heart to ice, she was so afraid. But she was drawn somehow unexplicitly to this couple, and Fredericka seemed to trust them.

“Why don't we let her sleep on it?” Rhiana gently suggested.

Tam nodded. “Here, we'll tuck you in, and you can have as long as you like to think about it. Old Aston's horse was exhausted anyway, and we were planning on staying another three days anyway.”

Fredericka smiled as Tam stood and laid Kione gently on the couch. The big woman tucked the blankets around her warmly and said, “Sweet dreams, kitten.”

Fredericka left, and Tam and Rhiana sat together nearby on chairs as their companions began their story-telling in earnest. So Kione fell asleep that night listening to wild tales of dragons, ogres, three headed men, and all sorts of other fantasy creatures. And whenever she woke sweating from her disturbing dreams during the night, either Rhiana or Tam was there nearby, sitting awake or dozing as the fire burned low. It gave the child a great sense of comfort as she realized that here were two people that for some unfathomable reason, really cared about her.

The morning dawned with a grey mist, looking to be ripe for rain. Tam and Rhiana woke Kione gently to a hearty breakfast of sausage, ham, and biscuits which Fredericka served them. At Tam and Rhiana's insistence, Fredericka joined them. Nothing was said of the question posed to Kione the night either that day or the next two days. But when the fourth day dawned, still stormy, Tam ventured a question.

“So, little lass, have you thought more about coming to live with Rhiana and I?” Tam asked, kneeling before her as he usually did.

After a long, thoughtful look into his eyes, she slowly nodded. Rhiana beamed, but Tam clarified. “Then, do you want to come with us?”

Kione looked over at Fredericka for a moment, and then back into Tam's green eyes, and slowly nodded again. A great big smile stretched Tam's face, and he lifted her up, hugging her close- something Kione was not used to.

Chapter Seven

Kione's life with Rhiana and Tam was one of happiness and adventure. Her adoptive parents were faeries, Kione discovered, and they travelled around the country much of the time. It became a game, keeping her parents' true identities secret while whatever travelling companions they had at the time went on unawares.

At first, the travelling threw the little girl off. She didn't like being surrounded by so many strangers all at once all the time, and she didn't completely trust Rhiana and Tam yet. But Tam was always there for her with his broad smile, deftly removing her from the prescence of strangers whenever she became afraid and keeping any canines far away from her. It was almost like he could sense the moment she grew too uncomfortable, nervous, or fearful, and he never failed to rescue her.

Rhiana was his perfect complement, her hands and voice soft and soothing. She had a voice like a lark, and her singing never failed to ease Kione's fears. Tam was full of stories and laughter, and within weeks, Kione began laughing along with him at the more amusing stories he told. She would laugh and clap her hands at his antics when he sometimes acted out the actions of the characters, usually at the most ridiculous parts, with great exaggeration and his sunny smile always on his face.

Kione did begin to trust them and put aside a lot of her shy unease around strangers, though she still stuck close to Tam and Rhiana. She slowly began to act more and more like a 'normal' little girl and less like the shattered shell of a child. Still, she was phobic of dogs and wolves both, and not to at ease with cats. Tam would always cut in, carrying his ashen-faced daughter out of sight of the frightful canines whenever she encountered them, and soothing her tears when she would finally collapse on his shoulder.

Her first instinct was always to shut down, and sometimes she would sit still and immovable for hours, to Rhiana and Tam's great consternation and tears. But slowly, the amount of time she was catatonic decreased, and they were always there to comfort her tears when she stirred. Rhiana and Tam grew adept at seeing canines and other such creatures before their daughter did and deftly guiding her away from the area before she could meet the creatures and have another attack.

They had a house- a wooden, spacious structure deeply hidden in a forest. As they had promised, Kione had her own room, with a broad window facing east and a wide deep bed with three fluffy down pillows and several thick blankets for cold seasons. When they were on the road, which was often, Kione slept rolled up in blankets or in Tam's cloak, with other blankets serving as a pillow cushioning her head. The little family travelled frequently, for Tam served as a messenger between the governors of certain cities across the land. Thus, Kione saw a lot of traveler's inns such as Fredericka's and learned the sometimes subtle differences distinguishing the good from the bad inns.

Kione thrived on the attentions and love which Rhiana and Tam showered upon her. She also met Jssem there, and quickly became friends with her. Jssem was a friend of Rhiana and Tam's and they often saw her. Kione liked her because she was great fun to play with, and Jssem taught her about concepts such as God and faith.

After six months with Rhiana and Tam, Kione began to talk, her words coming slow and not often, but they were there, and gave the faeries great joy so that they practically glowed. By the time Kione had a sister, she was a bubbling, talkative child with a great imagination and always an optimistic outlook. She was healed.

Kione was nearly six when Rhiana had a child, a little baby girl who they called Galia. Kione doted on her just as the faeries had doted on her when she was an only child, and she happily carried around her sister and played with her.

{Kione's life with Rhiana and Tam. Rhiana and Tam's daughter Galia. Their disappearance, leading to Kione's first abandonement at age 8.}

Chapter Eight

Kione wandered slowly away from her house after finding it empty. What had happened? Why were they gone? Where had they gone, and why hadn't they taken her? Surely they didn't forget her! They wouldn't have left without her, would they? She had nowhere to go, and so, slowly trudged out of the forest with tears trickling down her cheeks.

She was walking on the path to the road, her mind running in circles as she tried to figure things out. Why had the house been empty, torn apart like that? Had someone come in and taken her family away from her? Why? Suddenly, she heard shouting, and jumped to the side just in time to avoid being trampled by a horse pulling a cart.

“Here now! What do you think you're up to, waif? Walking in the middle of the road like that, you're apt to get yourself killed!” a man yelled at her.

The eight year old child couldn't take it anymore- she collapsed on the side of the road, chest heaving with great sobs and the effort it took to breathe through them. She felt she was choking, drowning in her sadness. The world was so unfair!

“Now look what you've done, Bran! Are ya happy now! You've gone and made her cry!” a woman's voice scolded the man. Softly, gentle hands pulled her up, and she found herself sobbing on the woman's shoulder.

“Bran, look- it's Tam and Rhiana's child!” the woman breathed. “Sweetie, come now, what's happened? You know Bran- he's a bear, he is, but he won't never hurt you. What happened, sweetie?”

Chokingly, through her sobs, Kione was able to convey what she had found just a few hours earlier- her house was empty, and all torn apart. She couldn't find her family.

“I want Daddy,” she whimpered, but no one was able to grant her wish.

Bran and his wife Sarana went back to Tam and Rhiana's house with Kione, but when they looked around, their faces grew grave. They left quickly, without finding Kione's family, and didn't speak until they were well away, on the road.

“I don't like it, Bran,” Sarana said, holding Kione tightly in her arms, as if fearing some unknown might reach out and snatch her away.

“Neither do I. Neither do I.. That there house was all messed up like that- t'ain't right,” Bran was muttering.

“You don't think........” Sarana trailed of, as if by saying what she was thinking, she might summon them up.

Bran nodded. “Them's raiders, and never did like Tam much. Always thought Rhiana there was too good fer 'im.”

Kione shook her head, unable to understand. “What do you mean? Mommy and Daddy and Galia got kidnapped? What about me?”

Sarana looked down at her fondly, with tears gleaming in her eyes. “Something like that, yes, dearie. Bad people may have come and taken them away, and maybe you got lucky, and they couldn't find you.”

“But I wasn't far away- I was picking berries in the garden, and I was singing. And all I heard was a scream.....” Kione looked down, and buried her face in Sarana's shoulder, while the woman gently stroked her hair, soothing her.

Bran glanced over at Sarana, disconcerted. “T'ain't right. I don't like it,” he repeated.

“I want Jssem,” Kione mumbled.

But Kione hadn't seen Jssem in quite a few months. Bran and Sarana talked to others who knew Tam and Rhiana, other friends, and none of them had seen Jssem either. Not for many months. Meanwhile, Kione was an orphan, and Bran and Sarana took her in while they organized searches for Kione's family, looking for any traces of the faeries and their daughter. Night after night they waited. The days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, and still there was no sign of them. The only lead was the Alfen Raiders, who never left survivors. But the scouts failed even to find the bodies of Kione's family.

Bran and Sarana were good to Kione, if preoccupied with the search and rescue mission they had put into motion for Tam and Rhiana. They made sure she had clean clothes that fit her and a warm bed to sleep on at night, and enough good food to eat, but they were nearly always dead tired at the end of the day. There was never good news, and it was telling on them.

Then, one day, six months after Tam, Rhiana, and their daughter disappeared, Bran and Sarana didn't come home from a hunting party. A fearful, fretting Kione woke the neighbors, and their eldest son was sent out to find Bran and Sarana. He came back five hours later, to report in hushed tones that Kione wasn't supposed to over hear but did that Bran and Sarana had been shot. The little girl dissolved in her grief and fear of the future-- where would she go? What would happen to her? And who would care for her? The neighbors sent her to live at an inn they knew of in a nearby town, for no one in town had room for the twice in one year orphaned nine year old girl. They called up the owners, who owed them a debt, and called in that debt for the inn's owners to care for Kione.

Chapter Nine

It was the Sunset Inn- the inn where Kione had stayed for the past month since Bran and Sarana had died. She was there, sitting at a table drinking water, for the inn had none of her favored orange juice, when a couple caught her eye. They were sitting by the fireside and shaing drinks. It remeinded Kione of Tam and Rhiana, her first family, and she couldn't help staring.

Her stare drew the woman's eye, who smiled a little at her. Kione shyly dropped her gaze, but when next she glanced up, the lady was smiling still at her and waved her over. Kione's shy smile grew, but she lowered her head and didn't move. A few seconds later, she felt someone pass by her, and a quick glance told her it was the lady. Her smile faded to sadness, and her head slowly lowered forlornly. She had ahad the chance for a friend, and now it was gone.

A soft voice by her ear startled her and interrupted her thoughts. “Are you hungry, child?”

She looked up, and there was the woman, smiling at her with a few plates of freshly baked cakes in her hands. Kione's mouth watered, but she shook her head “no” despite that. The woman smiled knowingly.

“Would you like to come sit with us and have a cake anyway? There's too much for us to eat alone,” the woman invited further.

Slowly, Kione smiled and nodded shyly. The woman gestured toward the fireplace with her head, her hands being full holding the cakes. Kione followed her to the couches by the fireside, shyly looking down. But when the woman gave her one o the cakes, she couldn't help but gobble it down. The man and woman laughed good-naturedly when she looked up, crumbs hanging from the corners of her mouth and eyes bright.

“What's your name, dear?” the man asked, sliding a tall glass of milk over to her.

“Kione,” she said softly, drinking some of the milk, but suddenly very self-concious now.

The man smiled and nodded to her. “Well met, Kione. I am Onys, and this is my wife Eupheme.”

Unsure what to do, Kione simply smiled a little at them. They were easy people to get to know, though, and when the night grew old, Kione didn't want to leave them. But they frequented the inn, and so promised her that they'd be there the next evening.

And so it was. Kione found friends in Onys and Eupheme, fo rthey were friendly and good. Onys occasionally brought toys and she would play with them, carefree and happy for the first time in a long time- ever since her life with Tam, Rhiana, and Jssem. Her life between then and now had not offered her many opportunities to play, and she made the best of the opportunities presented to her now in abundance. She talked often with the couple while playing with Onys and Eupheme, and soon they knew much of the nine year old's history since that fateful day with the wolf when she was five, for she remembered nothing before that.

Within a year, Kione had a family again, for Onys and Eupheme asked her to come live with them. She gladly took their last name, S'Andresalles, upon herself and adjusted quickly to life in a family again. As the years went on, the little girl found herself losing much of her shyness again, and she was able to believe that these people really would be there for her, that they wouldn't leave, wouldn't disapppear. Life was happy again, and the little girl became confident and self-assured. Alas, all that happiness was not to last, and strange things again befell Kione within two years' time.

It started one night at the inn. Onys and Eupheme were good friends with the innkeeper, and so were talking to him when a knock sounded at the inn's door. Kione leaped up, volunteeriung to go open the door. Pulling it open, the eleven year old was struck by the sight of the man standing there. Sure, it ws odd that one should knock at the door of an inn, but his garb was stranger still. He wore a dark brown cloak reaching to the ground with a deep, deep hood. The cloak had long sleeves, enabling him to easily grasp the middle of his long black staff, which had an orb at the top held there by three slender black prongs.

Kione was struck by his strange clothing more than by his equally strange walking stick. She tried looking at his face, but the shadows thrown by his cloak's hood were too deep for her eyes to penetrate.

“You look like Death,” she stated calmly, for to her eyes, he did.

There was a pause, then a light chuckle. A rather nice baritone voice spoke from the shadows shrouding his face. “Not exactly.”

Kione shrugged and stepped aside to let him come in. But he did not. “Are you Kione,” he asked.

Surprised, she answered, “Yes.”

“I have come to speak with you,” the voice said with a sad note that drew Kione's curiousity.

“Why? You don't even know me,” Kione pointed out.

“I do not, in fact. But I do know of you. I have some information you may be curious to know,” he explained, stepping into the inn. “Where may we talk?”

Kione pointed to the hearth, where the fire was burning. “No one is using the couches,” she noted.

And so, they moved to the couches, and Kione sat on one, and the stranger sat opposite her. It was odd, but Kione felt quite safe with the man who called his name Dinko. She couldn't make sense of why she should feel so secure with a stranger, but the feeling persisted, and Dinko was nothing if not respectful and courteous. Really, the only thing that disconcerted Kione was how much he knew of her. He knew how old she was, and how she had been adopted thrice now, and how she couldn't ever remember being four years old. But he called her name Nevrarré Nevaraen.

Over the next hour, Dinko told her wild stories, about how she was a member of one on the clans which belonged to his race, a race closely related but still different from the humans she had lived for so long among. He also said that very soon she would need to meet her people or she would get very sick. But little Kione had been practically raised in inns, and she knew a tale when she heard one, and she didn't believe him.

At last, Dinko stood up to go, apparently convinced that Kione wouldn't believe his wild tales. “If you ever need any help, I am staying in a hut in the forest just south of town,” he told her.

“Why would you be living in a forest?” Kione asked incredulously.

She felt his unseen smile, for even after all their long conversation, he had never taken down his hood, and shadows still obscured his face. “There are interesting things in the forest, and it is peaceful and quiet. I might ask you, why do you live in towns?”

Kione scowled. “Because people live in towns!” she explained the obvious.

Chapter Ten

Kione was playing near the inn one day a few months later when she saw a strange sight. A winged man came down from the sky and landed on the roof of the tavern. He wore strange close-fitting clothes and a sword was sheathed at his side, and his wings were black like his hair. He jumped up from the inn's roof and alighted on the ground in front of Kione, who was watching him curiously.

“Hi,” he grinned.

“Hello,” she said simply.

“I'm Alerd, Angel of Darkness,” he said proudly, and Kione wondered if she should be impressed.

“I'm Kione,” she decided to say simply.

“I know,” Alerd boasted again.

Kione's brow furrowed. “What do you mean? How?”

Alerd swaggered a few steps. “I know lots. Anyway, I know you.”

“What do you mean,” Kione wondered cautiously.

“I was sent by the other Angels of Darkness-”

“Who are they?” Kione interjected.

“Uh, they, well, they're the Angels of Darkness,” Alerd faltered, speaking as if the name should explain everything. It didn't. Alerd continued. “Well, we want you to join us.”

Kione stepped back. “What do you mean?” she asked again.

“We want your help,” Alerd said again, as if explaining to a child.

Kione shook her head. “Why? Why me?”

Alerd looked bemused. “What, you don't know?”

The look on the eleven year old's face was answer enough. Alerd began to laugh.

Over the next couple of months, Kione got no answers, but the AoD kept paying her visits. They became increasingly adament in their demandws to join them, saying things such as that it was her destiny, that she was meant for life with them, that it was what she was made for. Whenever one messenger disappeared or was occasionally fought off and killed by one protector or another, another messenger took his place. Kione was grateful to be surrounded by people that would fight for her safety, but she wished the AoD would just leave her alone.

They tried other methods, such as giving her the unwanted gift of being able to ignite fire with her hands, and giving her the nickname “little flame” to go with it. One late afternoon, it reached a climax. She was in the garden when the latest representative, Alik, came to visit her. He swooped down from above, and snatched up the little girl around the waist, carrying her off while she screamed and flailed about. Neighbors and patrons of the nearby inn looked out to see the commotion, but there really was little anyone could do- Alik was flying fast and high.

He set her down some miles in the wilderness, and she promptly kicked him. “Ow!” he exclaimed, looking at her as though she were a favorite pet that had just bit him.

“Take me back!” she demanded with all the force an eleven year old can muster.

“I will! Don't worry. Just, I want to ask you...”

“No! I don't want to join your stupid group! Stop bothering me!” she shouted at him.

“No need to shout, little flame,” he chuckled, “No one can hear you here.”

“Take me back!” Kione repeated her demand.

Quick as lightening, the winged man reached out and grabbed her arm, causing her to cry out in pain. “Let me go!” she screamed.

Alik smiled at her, sending chills around her heart. Her arm began to burn, and Kione screamed again, twisting and pulling to try to get away, but her arm hurt to much for her to get any leverage. Finally, he let her go, and she fell to the grass, her right hand holding her left arm as she curled up, whimpering with the pain.

“There. The mark of the AoD. You will be ours, little flame- never fear,” Alik spoke with a voice full of malice.

Fearfully, Kione looked at her left arm. In the spot where he had held it, from which pain radiated, there was a blue marking of intricate design. To her eyes it seemed to glow with the pulsing pain coming from it, nearly paralyzing her. She shook her head in denial, tears of pain streaming down her cheeks.

Alik crouched beside her like an old friend. “There- it'll tell us when we're close to you, and let you know we're coming. You'll never get lost, little flame,” he pronounced, as if it was some great gift.

Kione withdrew, cringing away from him and protectively holding her arm. Suddenly, she heard a voice from above, and a tall elderly man landed near her.

“Give her up! She is not yours!” the elder declared.

Another person- a maiden wearing trousers and wielding a sword, with wide white wings carryign her down to the ground- alighted, and her wings disappeared as if they never were. She looked at Kione, and her gaze was kind and gentle.

“It's okay- we're here to bring you back,” she assured the youngster. Kione watched mutely.

Alik attacked the man, who parried his blow with his old wooden staff and speed that was quite at odds with his apparent age. Then, Alik disappeared. The strange man turned to Kione, to see if she was okay, when Alik appeared, a few feet behind the man. Kione's eyes widened with fear as Alik charged at the back of Kione's would-be rescuer with his sword.

“Ahghairon!” The maiden cried, and leaped in front of her companion to parry the blow meant for the man's spine. She and Alik fought, but then after a few blows, Alik disappeared again.

“You're hurt, lass,” the man, Ahghairon, noted, and Kione saw that is was true- the maiden's leg had a gash that was pouring blood from it down her boot.

“Yes,” the maiden noted dryly, wincing. “Look!” she alerted Ahghairon, seeing their disappearing companion reappear a few feet away and come at them with his sword again.

This time it was Ahgharion who fought, before Alik disappeared to reappear behind the maiden, who parried his blow mostly by luck. Alik disappeared again, and the two companions exchanged looks.

“This is getting tiring,” the maiden commented, though she was only breathing slightly heavy.

The man nodded. “Lass, go take the child and return her to her parents, and I will deal with this monster who steals children.”

The maiden looked about to argue, but her eldery friend caught her gaze, and she relented, nodding assent just as Alik reappeared and Ahgharion leaped to do battle with him. The maiden sheathed her sword and knelt before Kione, between the child and the fighting men, and Kione noted with curiousity that despite her back being toward the fight, she seemed to be quite assured that no harm would come to her. Could she trust the old man that much?

“Hey,” the maiden spoke gently, holding out her hand. “I'll take you to your family, okay?”

Slowly, Kione reached out and put her hand in the maiden's, somewhat reluctanctly. The maiden seemed to understand her reluctance, and didn't move a muscle, assuring the youngster that she was quite safe in her hands. The maiden took Kione gently in her arms, as if the child was fragile and might break, and Kione wrapped her arms around the maiden's neck as she began to run.

The maiden sprinted across the grassland, running as fast as she could, and Kione could hear her breath quicken. Then, suddenly, the maiden's wings reappeared, arching upward toward the sky, and with a great leap, her wings flapped fiercely. They were airborne. The winged maiden laboured upward to a height where she could soar while Kione shut her eyes.

After a few minutes, they began to circle, and peeking out through her lashes, Kione saw that they were descending near the inn. The maiden landed in front of the building and set Kione down, her wings immediately disappearing.

“Thank you,” the child remembered to say, before running off into Eupheme's arms to be held tightly.

Some while later, while the maiden was resting just outside of the inn, for she wished to await her companion's return, the eldery man showed up again. He nodded to the maiden, who smiled and nodded back, and made his way over to the child. “They won't bother you at least for a time, lass,” the man told her fondly.

Kione grinned, and buried her face in Eupheme's shoulder while she thanked Kione's rescuers.

{The Angels of Darkness (AoD) and the Forces of Chaos (FOC). Being given power to make flame and the tattooing of her upper left arm by the AoD. When any of AoD type are near, Kione's tattoo throbs.}

Chapter Eleven

{Konndisch and his obsession. Being aged from 11 to 18. Death. }

Chapter Twelve

{Meeting the other Galoedin and learning of her heritage, true name, and parentage. Travelling with Dinko, Diurnum, and meeting Arnell and Milose. Meeting Rentose.}

Chapter X

It was the third time this week, but Kione slipped toward the inn- Cherished Oak Inn- anyway. Night was upon the land, and Kione was a part of it in her flowing black cloak with its ample hood. Her equally black boots trod over the spring's new growth of grass, but she wasn't paying attention, her gaze fixed on the inn. It was on the outskirts of a poor little town with a long name that Kione could never remember and had given up trying to pronounce. But though it was small, the prescence of so many people- especially when compared to her accustomed forest solitude- made her nervous, and she could feel the anxiety welling up in her chest, constricting her heart.

She ventured forward despite it, setting her will as steel against the anxiety that would consume her. Opening the door to the inn, she let its soft warm glow pour out onto her, and she quickly stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. Immediately she moved for the bar counter, ever hating to draw attention to herself by lingering. The innkeeper nodded to her, his eyes knowing, but kind, too. Like most of the innkeepers Kione had known during her lifetime, this one had an eye for faces, an ear for stories, and a mind to store them all. Kione knew that she was a story, but she was ever silently grateful to the innkeeper that he never asked.

“Orange juice,” she requested softly, as she had on her previous visits.

The innkeeper nodded, and slid the glass he'd already prepared for her over the glossed wood to her hand. Kione ducked her head, knowing the interpretation of the silent message. He was letting her know he remembered her, and his curious gaze held the questions he would like to ask. Kione paid him quickly and left the bar counter before the innkeeper could break his customary silent acknowledgement of her.

She seated herself quickly at an empty table in the corner, quite out of the way, and sipped her juice. She knew it was quite uncommon for folks to go to an inn and order juice of any sort at the bar- water was more common- but Kione liked her orange juice, and didn't want to change. She'd enjoyed this drink since she was five- why should she stop now?

Her large brown eyes, ever alert for possible danger, noted a young man at the countertop talking to the innkeeper and occasionally glancing her way. Self-conciously, she tugged the deep black hood farther over her face, wishing she could completely shadow her features the way Dinko did. But her hood wasn't made like his, and wasn't deep enough anyway. It would shadow her face some, yes, but the forest made for better hiding.

But the inn had orange juice. And people. And Kione's people skills needed improving. It was hard enough to hold passing conversation- what Kione wanted was to be able to sit in a room like this and enjoy it without her heart trying to leap out of her chest.

Kione sighed and tried to dismiss the stranger and the bartender from her mind. From the inside pocket of her cloak she pulled a plain green book- Dinko's journal. Not the journal he kept now, of course- no one saw that. Even Diurnum barely knew what it held. This was a nearly identical book, but it had been Dinko's journal when he had been a young technomage and learning his trade. Kione ran her slender fingers over the rich paper pages, smiling. She agreed with Dinko in her preference for paper records, rather than all electronic and cyber. Paper was real- you could feel it, rather than trick your brain into thinking you felt it. You could smell it, taste the richness of it as you breathed in the scent. Older books had a richer scent- and they often had richer knowledge.

A solid thunk interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up sharply, swallowing her heart back into her chest from where it had leaped into her throat. The strange young man and another were having a dart match, and the inquisitive stranger had thrown the first dart, striking the target directly in the center. A low whistle sounded from a table nearby the impromptu tournament, but the young man shrugged, though he was grinning. The other young man's face wore a grim expression, but his dart, when thrown, also went through the eye of the bull. The first young man threw again, and the point of the dark embedded itself in his previous dart.

“My apologies, my good sir. I will pay for that,” he said, bowing to the innkeeper, who merely nodded.

Kione turned her attention back to the book, ignoring the dart match. Within a few words, she was deep in the pages and the world they described, seeing the libraries and gardens of the Galoedin Central World through Dinko's eyes. She smiled at his descriptions of his sister, Alyyah. She felt a kind of kinship with Dinko's sister, admiring her for her witty remarks and her way with people. If only she herself weren't so shy.....

“My pardon, my lady,” a voice said.

Kione gasped, nearly throwing the journal and leaping from her chair. Remembering herself, she carefully took a better hold on the journal, closing it, and looked up with a still startled gaze to find the source of the voice. It was the expert dart thrower, standing before her with two glasses in his hands. He had stepped back at her startlement, and his face wore a kind of bemused chagrin.

“Excuse me,” he said again, retreating another step and allowing her greater space. “I didn't mean to startle you, my lady.”

“I..... it's...... uh.. I am okay,” she stammered, unsure how to respond. She ducked her head, self-conciously, wishing she could just fade back into obscurity right away.

The young man grinned at her casually. “Here, I brought you something. Heilyn there said you come here occasionally, but never order a thing aside from your orange juice,” he explained, indicating her half-full glass with a nod of his head as he held out a glass of deep purple liquid for her.

Kione was confused. “Hei-.... Heilyn? Who....?”

The stranger tilted his head quizzically, much like a bird. “Heilyn. The bar tender over there,” he said, gesturing to the innkeeper. Kione flushed, realizing that she had never known the man's name till now. She was sure that was probably some deep greivance of politeness of some sort.

Warily, Kione eyed the drink and the stranger, making no move toward either. “I, uh, am q-quite happy with... with my, uh, juice,” she stammered as firmly as possible.

The young man shrugged. “Alright. Do you mind if I sit with you while I drink mine?”

Kione was searching through her mind for the best way to get rid of this stranger, but no polite ways afforded themselves to her flustered brain, and eventually, she gave the barest of nods. The stranger took a seat on the other side of the table, sitting as far from her as he could while still sitting at the same table as she. Noting this, Kione's mouth curved in the barest of smiles. The man took a long slow draught of his drink, staring pensively at the young man who he had just beaten in darts.

“Poor Layton..... He's a good dart thrower. He just needed someone to shut his mouth about it,” he mused aloud.

Kione's gaze followed his to the loser of the match sitting sourly glaring at the cup he held in his hand, as if it had done him some great wrong. Her brow furrowed, and she bit her lip, but said nothing. The young man who had appointed himself her companion looked up at her suddenly.

“I am sorry I startled you- and I apologize for disturbing your peace. I thought it would be good to give him time to cool off. He didn't take it well, unfortunately. Oh! And where are my manners? Forgive me- I am called Taunous, my lady,” the young man said, giving her a deep nod.

Kione gave a slight nod in response uncertainly. A second or two passed in silence before Kione remembered that he was probably waiting for her name in return. “K-Kione,” she said softly.

Taunous smiled and gave her another nod. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Kione.”

Kione was about to say something in return when her gaze caught a swift movement behind Taunous. The other man- Layton- had walked over without anyone's notice, and had just swung a chair up in his hands. So Kione's words turned into a startled gasp and she threw up her hands to protect herself, gripping the journal tightly. The chair swung down and broke against Taunous's back- for he was just standing up, alerted by Kione's gasp- but a chair leg broke off and somersaulted over Taunous's shoulder to get Kione soundly on the head.

Kione peeked out from her instinctively shut eyes to see Taunous fighting Layton. Layton had the advantage of weapons, for he was throwing chairs at Taunous and in his way, and Kione had to duck for cover, hiding under her table as one of the chairs-turned-projectile crashed onto her table, sending her glass of juice flying. Orange juice dribbled down the boundaries of her shelter while the other people in the inn shouted and cleared out of the way, and the innkeeper Heilyn shouted for them to stop. But Taunous was on the offensive, dodging the furniture Layton threw at him and dancing in a circle. Kione noticed with astonishment that Taunous was trying to give people time to get out, and many were doing so. But she was stuck in the corner.

There was another clump of people held hostage by the two men's fight, over against the opposite wall. Taunous was slowly retreating toward the wall Kione's table stood along, and his room to move around was diminishing fast. It became evident when he tried to dodge a chair but was blocked by a table on his left, and the chair hit his shoulder with a force sending him tumbling to the floor.